


The Weakness of Kings; The End of Days

by chamomilekai, jbird181, OBLVN, viiiii



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Angst and Drama, Angst and Tragedy, Dream Smp, Dream Team SMP - Freeform, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), War, everything really, l'manberg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27888031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamomilekai/pseuds/chamomilekai, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbird181/pseuds/jbird181, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBLVN/pseuds/OBLVN, https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiiii/pseuds/viiiii
Summary: He’s not really here, is he?His body feels light, though his arms and head feel heavy, and he shifts his weight to either foot, trying to comprehend the feeling of the plants choking on foul air beneath him. He feels the pressure of his feet in his shoes, barely noticeable, and wonders if that is all that ties him here- if that is all there is left.He runs his hands through his hair, features weighed down with regret and eyes stinging with tears. He looks upon the burning flag, a symbol of something he used to be, and wonders about the people he’d left behind. How has it come to this?-Dream’s Empire peacefully rests in a wide forested valley, but as new faces begin to join the fray, conflict quickly arises, and not every character gets along as well as everyone had originally thought. A few, in particular, stand out: a bold, brash teen named Tommy—and Wilbur, his mentor, a broken man with his own challenges and troubling internal conflicts. They face head-on the rising tension of the Empire, the growth of a young nation, the betrayal of their allies, and the deaths of their friends.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	The Weakness of Kings; The End of Days

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a dramatized retelling of some of the events of the Dream Team SMP. Some of the events may be omitted, altered slightly, or invented in order to keep plot consistency and characterization. That is to say, this is not an exact history of the streams and videos about the DTSMP. Characters may not be exactly the same as how they are portrayed by their respective CCs. With that disclaimer out of the way, we hope you enjoy our fic. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene is set. Someone shows up to the Empire.

Half a man stands on the edge of a cliff, a monolith of grey below the gently rising dawn- it is another day. He looks over the scene before him; fire, slowly engulfing and burning down the things he once cared for, the smell of blood and gunpowder filling his nose, and a confused sense of longing more suffocating than the smoke in his lungs. He gazes over the destruction, wondering if he could just be imagining it all. Could he actually smell the smoke, acrid and sharp in the back of his throat? Was the distant fire actually warming his skin? Looking down at his hands, he watches as ash floats down towards the grass. He holds his arms out towards it, yet the embers continue to fall uninterrupted. He’s not really here, is he?

His body feels light, though his arms and head feel heavy, and he shifts his weight to either foot, trying to comprehend the feeling of the plants choking on foul air beneath him. He feels the pressure of his feet in his shoes, barely noticeable, and wonders if that is all that ties him here- if that is all there is left.

He runs his hands through his hair, features weighed down with regret and eyes stinging with tears. He looks upon the burning flag, a symbol of something he used to be, and wonders about the people he’d left behind. How has it come to this?

He moves to sit on the ground, lets his chin rest on his knees, and waits.

\---

The valley is vast and open here, with long days and even longer nights, but for now, the sun sits high in the sky, making the wilderness around him look a lot less threatening than it really is. The cobblestone under Dream’s hands is warm; the heat has been soaking into his gloves since he set his hands down on it earlier. His fingertips trace the rough divots in the wall under him. He lets his legs dangle over the edge of the roof, swinging absentmindedly as he surveys his surroundings. Under him, the smooth surface of the lake is rudely cut in half by the wooden walking path towards the house, as well as the farm situated not far from it. It’s been brought to life on a platform in the water, leaning on oak pillars that have settled into the bottom of the lake. In the distance, the pine and oak trees on the hills surrounding him form a barrier to keep their land secluded from the rest of the world. A sense of peace, and pride, settles in his mind as he looks over his land. His empire.

The lake is so still that he can see their house reflected from his perch atop it, red brick shimmering on the surface, himself a green smudge above it in the water. The wind picks up, sending ripples through the wheat field, and the image is gone, broken up by waves. Dream closes his eyes, breathing in the late summer air. If the reddish tones starting to decorate the trees in the valley were any indication, fall is nearer than the length and warmth of the days would let on. It’ll get colder soon, and days will become increasingly shorter as one season makes way for another. Resources will become scarcer, but they’ve prepared. They’ll be ready when the time comes. In an empire as young as theirs, there is no special treatment for kings. They’ve all worked on the farm, and fought off mobs, and laid row after row of brick to build their house. It’s almost done now, but the second floor is still left open to the elements. 

“We need to put an actual roof up here, mobs are going to spawn,” George muses, footsteps quiet on the wooden planks. It startles Dream for just a second, and he breathes a small sigh of relief before turning his head to acknowledge his friend’s presence.

“I know,” he says, his trance of watching the wilderness around them now broken.

George hops up onto the ledge beside him with quite a bit more grace than Dream thought he was capable of. “What are you doing up here?”

Dream shrugs, sighing once again. “I don’t know- thinking.” His heel clips against the glass window on the side of the wall, startling the fish that sends a wavelet through the water, and he stills. George leans back on his palms, letting his skin press into the rough stone. He remains quiet, giving the other time to wrap up his thoughts.

“Look, George,” Dream starts, leaning his arm on his thigh and making a wide gesture with the other, encompassing the area around them, “Isn’t it amazing? Everything the light touches is our kingdom. One day, the sun will set on my time here as the ruler, and will rise with you.” 

“What the hell, it’ll rise with me,” Sapnap cuts in, making both of them turn briefly around towards the interior of the house.

“It’ll rise with you as the new king,” Dream repeats, directing his gaze towards George again, who nods in response.

“Whatever,” Sapnap snorts, rolling his eyes and pressing his face to the glass housing their fish. “Hi, Beckerson. Have you seen Mars?” he asks the fish, voice going up an octave as he baby-talks his pets. His nose leaves a smudge on the aquarium wall, which he quickly wipes away with his sleeve.

Dream glances back down at Sapnap, mildly annoyed. “I don’t know, look around. They’re all in there somewhere.” 

George jumps down to join Sapnap in the search for their other fish. “Oh, here’s Mars.” He laughs mischievously, poking the glass with one finger. “Dream, what if I killed it right now?” 

Dream laughs, rolling his eyes, assuming George, as per usual, is being sarcastic. “Don’t, don’t, seriously.” 

The air freezes around them as Sapnap steps forward and grips the pommel of his sword, the action almost out of place. “Yeah, don’t you dare.” His voice takes on a chillingly serious tone, and George instinctively takes a step back.

Dream hops down from the ledge and steps between them, holding his arms out slightly. “Chill out, no one’s killing any fish, right, George?” Somewhere in his eyes, there’s a silent request: please. 

George huffs in reluctant agreement. “Yeah, I’m not going to kill your stupid fish.” 

Sapnap’s face twists further into frustration, clenching his fists. “Okay, that’s it!” he barks, stepping forward aggressively. 

“Guys!” Dream shouts, moving to hold Sapnap back with one hand on his chest. “Come on, now.” 

Sapnap brushes Dream off with a laugh, though the air remains cold. “I’m just playing. Come with me, I want to show you guys something.” His aggressive demeanor falls further as he strides down the spiral stairs, and they trail after him, reeling. 

Dream blinks at his sudden change in demeanor, heart rate slowing but hands still tense. “What is it?” he asks, curious. Sapnap had been gone intermittently the last few weeks working on something. Maybe this was it.

“You’ll see.” 

“Ooh, a surprise,” George hums. 

Sapnap leads them down the freshly-laid wooden path to a long, low, angular building of stone brick and spruce, hidden between a set of trees and freshly planted bamboo. “It’s a courthouse. What do you think?” 

Dream’s footsteps echo off the quartz floor inside, before his shoes bury themselves in the red carpet, lining a path towards the middle of a room. He can’t help but smile.

“Wow, this is nice.” He hadn’t realized Sapnap was capable of such craftsmanship, although he hadn’t really had a chance to build anything. While Dream and George worked on the community house, Sapnap had been left to work on food gathering and other such chores, instead of building.

Sapnap grins. “Isn’t it? I built it myself.” 

“It’s alright I guess,” George teases. 

Mercifully, he chooses not to respond. “Okay, so there are two cells, right,” Sapnap explains, gesturing to them. He moves next to the leftmost one, hands behind his back. “George, come over here.” 

“No way, I see the lever behind you. I’m not falling for something that stupid,” George scoffs. 

“You’re no fun,” Sapnap pouts, pulling the lever. Iron bars spring up from the floor, blocking off the tiny room. 

“Oh cool,” Dream breathes, raising an eyebrow. “Is that redstone?” 

Sapnap grins, puffing out his chest in pride. “Yeah. But wait, there’s more. So you have someone on trial in this cell here, and you go over the evidence. Then-” he releases the lever and the bars sink back into the floor, “-you take them over to this cell here.” 

“What’s the table for?” Dream asks, running his hands over the smooth surface. 

“That’s where the judges sit and deliberate. There has to be a unanimous vote for someone to be found guilty. Here, watch, this part is cool.” Sapnap rummages through his pack and pulls out a few wheat seeds, which he drops on the floor near a chest in the second cell. “You have to put your stuff in this chest, and then the judges vote.” Sapnap flicks each lever down one by one. “Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty.” The floor of the cell opens up, revealing lava underneath, and the wheat seeds tumble down into the molten rock, burning up with a hiss. Sapnap spreads his arms wide like a ringmaster. “Tada.” 

“Okay, I’ll admit it, that’s kinda cool,” George laughs, inspecting the hole in the ground as he leans over the iron bars of the second cell. 

“You know, maybe we should put you on trial for killing Spirit,” Dream jokes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Hey, I didn’t kill Spirit! It was an unfortunate accident,” Sapnap whines. 

“I’m kidding,” Dream clarifies placatingly. 

He catches his friend’s eye roll and resists the urge to shove him. “Besides, didn’t you see the painting?” 

“Painting?” Dream asks, interest piqued at the question. 

He gapes at Dream and stops fiddling with the levers to turn and point at a large mural of Spirit on the far wall. She’s running across the plains, hooves kicking up the grass. “Callahan painted it on her leather. Do you like it?” 

Dream runs a hand over the bottom edge of the painting. It’s clearly Callahan’s work, the style resembles the painting on the left wall. In it, Dream is sitting on a throne with his right foot resting on his left thigh, a shiny sword in his hand, and a crown embedded with emeralds proudly resting atop of a golden head of hair. It was made more as a joke, but it still looks incredibly professional. Nobody doubts Callahan’s skill with a paintbrush, or his creativity, which can turn the sight of Dream on a simple wooden chair into the image of a mighty king. Looking at it, even Dream starts to believe he could be that person in the painting. “I do, it’s beautiful, Sapnap.” 

“Thank you,” he says, pleased. “I’ll let Callahan know you like it.” 

George suddenly shrieks, and they swivel toward the entrance to the courthouse, swords instinctively in their hands within seconds.

“Creeper!” 

“Don’t let it blow up!” Sapnap yells, swinging at the hissing mob. Dream attacks from the other side, and with two strikes of his weapon, the creeper disintegrates into gunpowder. 

Dream brushes the dust off his shirt as a sigh of relief escapes from him. “Okay, so this place is not lit up enough,” he concludes. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” George retorts. 

“Okay, I’ll go make more torches and lanterns if you guys work on spawnproofing the area,” Dream decides. 

“Alright.” 

There’s always something satisfying about crafting things, transforming wood and coal into something useful, more than the sum of its parts. Dream almost loses track of time, blinking into the setting sun as he finishes wrapping the last bit of charcoal-covered cloth onto the end of a stick. George and Sapnap are almost to the entrance to the footpath when Dream strolls out to meet them, one lit torch flickering in his hand. 

“Did you get everywhere?” he asks looking over the area. 

“I think so, George went a little overkill.” 

“I’m trying to prevent Sapnap from crying like a baby when his courthouse gets exploded because he didn’t want to ‘waste torches.’” George’s voice is mocking but playful- it’s familiar, and Dream finds himself biting back a smile.

Dream laughs, handing them each an extra stack of torches. “Just the path, then?” 

Two nods in response. They work inward, a soft orange glow spreading across the landscape as they light up their land. Something proud flickers in his chest seeing everything come together like this.

As the three of them walk beside each other, George elbows Dream out of the way, reaching down to light up the path. “Excuse me.” 

Dream regains his balance and nudges him back playfully, a smile creeping onto his face. “Excuse yourself.” 

George jostles Dream’s shoulder, almost making him lose his balance. “Excuse me, staff coming through,” he giggles.

Dream shoves him lightly in response, but before he can return a quip, George tumbles off the edge of the bridge, arms windmilling comically, and landing clumsily in the water, dousing several of the torches on the path and the side of their house with a huge splash. 

George stands up in the waist-deep water, dark hair plastered to his forehead. Water drips from his face as his mouth hangs open in indignation. “Hey! What the hell?” he splutters.

Dream wheezes, clutching his chest. “Sorry.” He offers George a hand and pulls him back out of the water. 

George unsuccessfully tries to wring out his shirt, dripping water everywhere. “Ugh, I’m all wet. I hate you.” 

“No you don’t,” Dream smiles fondly. George shakes his head, spraying water everywhere like a dog, which is, at that moment, the funniest thing Dream has ever seen. “Oh my god,” he chuckles, putting up his hands to shield himself and failing miserably.

“Uh, guys?” Sapnap calls uncertainly. He’s holding his sword out, back tense, and Dream feels himself stiffen, hand on his own weapon. He scans the area, quickly forgetting his amusement.

“What, Sapnap?” 

Sapnap points wordlessly at the two boys who have appeared quite a few blocks away from them, standing en garde at the edge of the forest, almost hidden by the shadows. They don’t look more than fifteen, but Dream doesn’t let his guard down just yet.

“Who are _you?_ ” the blonde boy asks as the others approach them, positioning himself slightly in front of the other as he notices the weapons they’re carrying. 

“I think we should be asking you that,” Sapnap retorts, but Dream’s hand meets his shoulder. Sapnap backs off, acknowledging Dream’s wordless request to stay calm, but he keeps his sword raised. 

He strides forward. “I’m Dream,” he offers, analyzing the boys’ faces as they listen. They don’t look half as threatening as Sapnap is treating them to be. Maybe they’re like spiders; more afraid of the boys in front of them than the three are of them; there’s something about them that Dream can’t quite place, and he wonders for a moment how real their bravery is. “This is my empire, welcome.” 

A raised eyebrow, but no sharp remark. “Thank you,” says the blonde boy magnanimously, glancing around at them. “You are _much_ nicer than that other guy,” he snarls as his gaze settles on Sapnap again, making the other raise his eyebrows and widen his eyes in insult. “I’m Tommy, and this is Tubbo.” He turns and gestures weakly behind him; the other boy waves shortly. They both look tired, despite their airs, and Dream waves back, a pang in his chest.

“How long has this empire been here?” Tubbo asks, subtly shifting his weight back and forth, from behind Tommy and back out again. His eyes are bright and curious, noticeably intelligent, but weighed down by bruises that look too old to be on his face. It feels familiar.

“Not long,” Dream admits, releasing his grip on his sword. 

“Well, that explains it,” sighs Tubbo. “It’s been a long time since Wilbur was here.” The boys look around almost in unison, seemingly trying to find something recognizable in the landscape. Their eyes dart across the hills, taking in the buildings, and a zombie groans in the forest behind them. Both boys jump, stumbling forward and closer together as they look cautiously between the trees. 

A beat passes; Tommy laughs nervously. “Do you think we could possibly crash here for the night?” 

Dream turns to George and Sapnap in turn, who both shrug, waiting on Dream’s decision. 

“You can stay,” George says for the three of them. “But you’re sleeping on the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someday I will be caught up with the smp -Kai
> 
> is something going on? i’m building a house -J
> 
> subscribe to technoblade -Ems
> 
> sure as hell not passing my mocks but at least i have minecraft fanfiction -Vi

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sm for reading this far! Please let us know what you thought/suggestions/opinions—comments and kudos are really appreciated! Here is where you can find us:
> 
> chamomilekai: [Kai's Twitter](https://twitter.com/chamomilekai_/) | [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCevymDkZZNsU5-CbacopGNA?view_as=subscriber/)  
> jbird181: [J's Twitter](https://twitter.com/jbird1813/)  
> OBLVN: [Ems' Twitter](https://twitter.com/_OBLVN/)  
> viiiii: [Vi's Twitter](https://twitter.com/saintvi_/)


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